


Falling

by Linhiful



Category: Homestuck
Genre: F/M, Sadstuck
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-10
Updated: 2013-04-10
Packaged: 2017-12-08 02:02:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,229
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/755688
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Linhiful/pseuds/Linhiful
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He could feel it all at once, the molding and mesh of sensations that mixed together in a muddle of touch that was almost too much.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Falling

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by the recent upd8. I knew I had to write it before the next update ruined my idea. (except in the middle of writing it, Hussie updated AGAIN and semi-ruined it) First Homestuck fanfic, so yeah

He could feel it all at once, the molding and mesh of sensations that mixed together in a muddle of touch that was almost too much.

There were a few he could pinpoint. Like the rain that stabbed into his skin, more like hail than rain, but he could feel the water slid down his arm, leaving patterns that he couldn’t quite discern. It was hot. Too hot. Almost hot enough to burn his skin.

But then there was the soft warmth of the sun, and if he closed his eyes, he could remember the day he spent hours just looking in the clouds, at the images that flashed before his eyes.

What were they again? He couldn’t remember. That day felt so long ago.

And there was the smokey ash that clung to his skin. The wind that whipped across his flesh, and even if he wiggled his fingers, he couldn’t control them, couldn’t stop the gusts that slashed at his arm, and quite possibly for the first time since he ascended, he felt powerless.

But most of all he felt the prick, the stab of something hard, digging into his skin as he reached out to grab anything he could.

He tried to pull back, but a queasiness in his stomach increased. He felt like he was riding a rollercoaster, the air whooshing out of his lungs like he was falling. He couldn’t stop it, couldn’t summon up the powers to lift him up. The world was getting hazy, a darkness creeping up at the corner of his eyes even as everything became bright.

He heard Vriska’s voice, could imagine the eights that made its way through her speech, but he couldn’t understand what she was saying, not as the brightness overtook his vision and he was gone.

For a moment he felt the plush couch underneath his body, but his body tingled. He was slipping; reaching the ground until he opened his eyes and his feet was sinking into the soft sand.

He couldn’t register what he was looking at before he was gone again, falling again until he was looking at himself.

He frowned, watching a John that wasn’t him, but he could remember this moment. He didn’t before, for some reason he knew that, but now he could see it clear as day. The feeling that someone was watching, lurking behind him, but when he looked back—

He was gone.

John couldn’t get used to the feeling. His stomach flipped and churned, ready to expel the couple sips of Starbucks he managed to gulp down before he fell asleep. He tried to reach out for anything to catch him, but instead he caught the hint of red covering his fingers.

His blood trickled out of the spot that he felt the stab. It throbbed, only now noticing the ache, the pain slow to register through the tumbling.

When John looked up again, he was looking at Vriska. He couldn’t see her face, but he recognized the horns that jutted out of her head. He caught a glimpse of Nicolas Cage on the screen, and he couldn’t help but smile as she gasped. She leaned forward, face pressed against the screen.

“I knew you—“ he said, but the feeling came back, his body tugging and pulling on himself. Through the haze he saw her turn, a blush spreading across her face just as he disappeared. A blue kiss mark was smeared across the screen.

This time he was standing in front of a clock. The edges of his vision were green, but it flashed each time it ticked. Orange. Purple.

_Tick. Tock._

_Heroic. Just._

_Tick. Tock._

_Heroic. Just._

He stared, memorized. It never skipped a beat, flashing, almost pulsing. He reached out, hand smoothing across the wooden carving. The eyes glowed, staring straight back at him.

“I’ve come to expect a lot of things, but this I did no—“

John turned, catching a glimpse of a white suit before he was gone again.

Each trip was longer now. He could tell because each time his bile rose higher and higher than before. His head spun, almost overcoming him until he was back in his room.

Everything was the exact same way as he remembered. Nicolas Cage watched him from his wall, his computer had his pesterchum pulled up with the words _arachnidsGrip [AG] began trolling ghostyTrickster [GT]._

He remembered this day. A box was sat beside his chair, and his present for Jade was sprawled across his desk. _“I will kill you John ::::)”_ she had said, and as he smoothed his hand down his shirt, he supposed that was true.

John frowned, looking across the conversation, but it wasn’t the same. Not the way he remembered it. 

She never read his answer, he realized. Never knew that he had said yes. Never knew how much he looked forward to meeting her. Never knew all the movies he planned for them to watch, the things he wanted to do with her.

He practiced on Jade sometimes. He didn’t tell her that he was—it was a little weird since she was his sister—but he was doing the things with her that he eventually wanted to do with Vriska. Playing Ghostbusters, watching Con Air, showing her magic tricks, playing pranks on Dave. 

Even after he found out she had died, he wondered what could have been. Every time he fell asleep, he thought that maybe that would be the time he would see her again.

_AG: If you don't 8elieve me, you are free to look out your window._

John pressed his nose up against the window, the snow almost blinding him, and for a second he thought he was falling again, but when he looked down, he saw them. She looked at _The Other John_ , smiling as she wrapped herself up in _his_ jacket.

But no matter how much John—the real John, he told himself—tried to remember, he couldn’t. No new memories. No old memories. He couldn’t remember. It was the date that never was, and he couldn’t remember it. 

John never hated himself as much as he did now when he watched them walk away, through the neighborhood that he was sure he would never see again.

When he vanished, he didn’t notice the bloody handprint that he left behind. 

John felt like he was falling for hours, eyes clutched closed, trying to keep the contents of his stomach in. Even when he arrived, it took a moment before he could open them.

He took a few calming breaths, and when he peered out he wished that he hadn’t. 

Blue and brown streaks covered the ground. Brown and blue words were sprawled across the grounds, but as he stepped over it, it smeared into an unreadable mess.

But still he saw it. Over and over again, a trail that led him up the hill. 

**KILL ME. KILL ME. KILL ME. KILL ME. KILL ME. KILL ME. KILL ME. KILL ME.**

She was there, laid across the bed, the same blue that she typed to him seeping out below her. He felt the bile and sickness creep up from inside him, and this time it wasn’t because of the fall. 

**KILL ME. KILL ME. KILL ME. KILL ME. KILL ME. KILL ME. KILL ME. KILL ME.**

It was etched across her forehead, her eyes barely opened in a little slit when he reached out, hand shaking, and touched her cheek. Her skin ran cold, but the blue felt like it was going to burn him. When he pulled away, the red of his blood stained her gray skin, and he realized that all of this was her blood. 

**KILL ME. KILL ME. KILL ME. KILL ME. KILL ME. KILL ME. KILL ME. KILL ME.**

John was kneeling on the ground, throwing up the contents of his stomach before he could stop himself. He couldn’t differentiate the flash of light that surrounded him with the one on top of the bed before he was gone. 

He didn’t want to stop this time, content to feel the air whooshing pass him. His stomach still felt nauseous, but there was nothing else to let go. He didn’t want to see any more. Didn’t want to know what was next.

When he opened his eyes, he saw the clock again, but this time it was cracked, tilted, and broken. The arrow pointed at _Just_ , but he could still hear the ticking in his head. 

_Tick. Tock._

_Tick. Tock._

_Tick. Tock._

He stared at that word until he was gone, the sound and word burned into his mind.

_Tick_

He didn’t land this time, but the falling feeling stopped. The wind cradled him, leading him through the air even though he wasn’t controlling it. When he peered out onto the ground, he saw them. Vriska and _The Other John._

_Tock._

He knew it was the _other_ because he couldn’t remember this. Everything was unfamiliar, and the only thing he could do was follow, and even if he didn’t want to, the wind wouldn’t let him escape.

They stopped just at the edge of the bubble, and she grabbed his hand. “Why did you stop?” Even from this distance he could hear them, the wind carrying their voices to him. 

He shook her off, looking up, and John couldn’t help but follow his gaze. “You know I can’t just leave everyone behind.” A green monster stood above them, grinning a maniacal grin, aiming in the opposite direction.

“And you think I would leave without you?” 

_Heroic._

“I can’t let you stay.” 

She snapped away from him, almost pushing him to the ground before pounding a fist on his chest. “You’re not the boss of me, we’re not dating anymore, remember? Oh wait. I’m sorry. That’s not something you do.” He grabbed her hand, clutching onto it as he leaned his forehead against hers.

“That’s not fair, and you know it,” he said, and even if John couldn’t see the tears, he could hear it in his voice, could recognize the same hitch in his breath that he, himself, got whenever he cried. 

“And neither is you expecting me to just—“And he kissed her, lips slated across hers, and John could tell this wasn’t the first time. He could feel the desperation in the air, the tension that never left their bodies.

“I’m not real, remember?” 

_Just._

Vriska laughed, a sob caught in her throat, and John didn’t think he heard anything more heart breaking in his life. She grabbed his face, made him look at her before she leaned in. 

He pushed her through the bubble before she could kiss him again.

_Tick._

_The Other John_ looked up at the sky saw the laser making its way towards him and cracked a smile that made his heart ache. “I was always jealous of you, you know.”

John disappeared before the blast passed through him, but he could remember the ashes that clung onto his skin, the dirtiness that felt like it would never wash away.

_Tock._

He felt woozy when he landed this time, the air knocked out of him as he swayed on his feet. When he looked up though, he saw her again, gasping for breath as a blade was pulled from her chest. 

John wasn’t sure she saw him until her eyes flickered to him, a weary smile spreading across her face just as she fell.

_Tick._  

An unfamiliar troll stood behind her, but she looked away, wrapping her arms around Karkat as John continued to stare at Vriska’s body. He willed her to awaken, to come back to life like he so often did, but she never moved from her spot.

“How did you get here?” Karkat asked, but John didn’t reply, sinking to his knees instead. 

_Tock._

But instead he reached out, hands shaking as hard as ever, and touched her hair. He left his own streaks of red everywhere. 

He grabbed her, pulling her into his arms, the blue getting everywhere soaking into his clothes, into his skin, but he didn’t care, not as he clung to her. He leaned her head back, touching her face, hands swiping across her forehead as he remembered the words etched across her skin.

**KILL ME. KILL ME.** **KILL ME. KILL ME.** **KILL ME. KILL ME.** **KILL ME.**  

John’s breath hitched, choking on a sob as he tried to wipe the blood away. His own mixed with hers, creating a sickening purple that made him want to throw up. But instead he held her broken body, ignoring the quiet weeping that came from the girl that killed her.

_Heroic._  

He didn’t even notice the faint honking creep up from behind him, nor the shuffling of feet as they all approached. The ticking was even louder in his head now, downing out even his own muffled cries as he sobbed into her hair.

He was covered in her blood now. His face and arms smeared in her blood. He was sick of that color. Blue. He wanted to scrub his skin, to get rid of the sickening feeling of death and ash that clung onto every inch of him. He wanted to rip off his clothes, to burn it and never see it again. 

_Just._

Instead, he reached for the ring and realized that it wasn’t there.


End file.
